Chapter 5 #2
She had to rest at the bottom for quite some time.
She looked out over the great hall, though she suddenly wished she hadn’t.
Men looked at her, then deliberately crossed themselves.
That didn’t surprise her, but it did alarm her.
She couldn’t manage another trip to the lake.
She didn’t have the strength to fight and she didn’t dare hope that Cameron would be there to rescue her again.
Obviously, the sooner she was out of Cameron Hall and off Cameron land, the better off she would be.
She gathered the tattered remains of her energy and walked to the front door, struggling not to betray her weakness.
No one stopped her, no one called her anything untoward, no one was waiting outside to carry her where she didn’t want to go.
She pulled the door shut behind her, stumbled down the steps to the courtyard, then hurried across it as quickly as she could.
She didn’t expect to see Cameron and she didn’t.
It was better that way.
She stopped outside the front gates, then took her bearings.
She wasn’t a particularly good navigator, but she knew where Cameron Hall was in relation to Moraig’s little house.
She shuffled through the village as quickly as possible, then turned south and east. She wasn’t moving very well, but at least she was on her feet. It could have been worse.
The sun was high in the sky before she knew she wasn’t going to be making it any farther that day. She sat down on a rock and wondered who would capture her first: Cameron’s suspicious men or those even more suspicious MacLeods.
Neither alternative was good from where she was sitting.
She wanted to get up, but somehow, despite the potential danger, she simply couldn’t.
She slipped off her rock to the ground, leaned over, then lay down.
The ground was cold but at least the grass wasn’t wet.
For once, she appreciated a bit of Scottish sunshine.
Maybe all she needed was a little nap to help her shore up her strength for another push.
She thought she might have dozed. She was almost certain she had dreamed—of rain, of all things.
Only this wasn’t a fine Scottish mist, or a dry rain, it was a full-blown storm.
She heard the thunder before she managed to get her eyes open to see what the clouds were going to unleash on her hapless self.
But the sky was blue.
Sunny realized that the rumbling was horse’s hooves against the ground. She sat up with a start, but couldn’t bring herself to run. It was just a lone horseman anyway. Perhaps he wouldn’t trouble himself to finish her off and would simply continue on by.
She realized, as he came closer, that it was Cameron. He reined in his horse a handful of feet away from her.
“You haven’t gotten far,” he noted.
“I’m tired.”
He held down his hand. She sighed and crawled unsteadily to her feet. She looked at his foot in the stirrup and wondered if she could possibly get hers all the way up there to help herself up behind him.
Nope, not happening. She looked up at him. “I can’t.”
He held down both his hands. “Try.”
She took his hands and tried, but still couldn’t manage. She could hardly keep herself upright, much less get herself onto his horse. He slid down to the ground with a curse, cupped his hands, then tossed her up into his saddle. He swung up behind her without any effort at all.
That was almost enough to make her want to lie down again.
He wrapped an arm around her and took the reins. “Let’s get you home.”
“I can get there,” she protested. “Eventually.”
He snorted. “Aye, perhaps in a fortnight or two. I’ll see you there today instead.”
She knew she should have objected a bit more, but she was just too tired to. Besides, Cameron could get her back to Moraig’s, then get himself home without getting himself killed, couldn’t he?
He’d certainly done it before.
“Thank you, Cameron,” she said with a deep sigh.
“That is my laird to you, wench.”
She smiled. “I already have a laird, thank you just the same.”
He grunted, then pulled her back to rest against his chest. Sunny closed her eyes as he put his arms around her and held her upright as they rode.
She was, she had to admit, enormously grateful for the help.
She couldn’t have walked for more than an hour or two already, yet it had almost done her in.
If it hadn’t been for the thoughts of a hot shower and a roaring fire, she might not have even managed to keep herself upright on Cameron’s horse.
She looked at his hands holding the reins in front of her and studied the scars there. They were obviously things he’d gotten either training or in battle. She reached out and trailed her finger over them, wondering how old he’d been when he’d earned them, where he’d been, whom he’d been fighting.
Then she realized what she was doing. She pulled her hand away abruptly only to have him take it and put it back over his. He covered that hand with his other and squeezed gently.
Perhaps he was just as delirious from lack of sleep as she was.
They rode without haste south. It was late afternoon when they reached the forest to the north of Moraig’s house.
Cameron reined in his horse under a tree, then swung down.
He looked around for a moment or two, then held up his arms for her.
She put her hands on his shoulders and let him help her to the ground.
He set her gently on her feet, then looked down at her. “We’ll walk from here.”
“You shouldn’t,” she said seriously. “Really. I’ll be fine on my own.”
He snorted. “Woman, you can scarce keep yourself upright. I will see you back to your house.”
“But what about your horse?”
“He’ll wait.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I’ll run home. I’ve done it before.” He picked her up in his arms.
“Cameron!”
“You have no shoes.”
“But—”
“Quiet, wench. I’m being gallant.”
Well, if that was the case, who was she to argue?
She surrendered and put her arms around his neck.
She tried not to notice that she was approximately six inches from his face and his mouth was just as beautiful—in a manly sort of way, of course— up close as it was from far away.
She pressed her face against his hair in self-defense.
He might have shivered. She knew she had.
Why did he have to be 650 years older than she was and light-years out of her league?
They reached Moraig’s hut—or what would be Moraig’s hut eventually—sooner than she would have liked.
Sunny wondered if Cameron was completely worn out from carrying her, but he set her down without grunting and didn’t even stretch or complain.
He merely put his arm around her shoulders and led her around the corner to the front door.
Sunny pulled up short, then forced herself to relax. It didn’t look like her front door, but then again this was the medieval side of that time gate. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected anything else.
She turned to Cameron. “Thank you for bringing me back,” she said quietly.
“Thank you for coming with me in the first place.”
She wanted to say something else, but what else was there to say? Come with me? Don’t let me go? Neither was possible.
Before she could think up a clever response, he had pulled her into his arms. Sunny closed her eyes and put her arms around his waist and let him settle her close.
It was madness to allow herself to enjoy it, but she couldn’t help herself.
He held her closely for several minutes, then kissed her hair and put her away from him.
“Go on, witch,” he said gruffly. “Be off with ye.”
Sunny took a deep breath, then turned and pushed open the door before she started to cry. She stepped over the threshold, then pulled up short.
There was nothing inside.
Not a single stick of anything.
She looked behind her, but Cameron was still there. He frowned. “Well?”
She wasn’t panicked, no, not at all. She was probably just doing it wrong. Granted, she had no experience with time travel, but she remembered vividly being pulled from her time back to Cameron’s. There had been something in the air. A tingle of something.
Or perhaps that had just been the touch of his hand.
She didn’t feel the same thing at present, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She took a deep breath, backed up, then stepped over Moraig’s threshold again.
Nothing happened.
She backed up, tried again, only this time she closed her eyes and wished for a hot shower.
Nothing. Nada. Zip.
She went back outside and tried to look at it in a more pragmatic way.
Much as she didn’t want him to go, having Cameron near was distracting in the extreme.
It made it very difficult to realize that what she should be wishing for was what lay on the other side of that door, not what was standing five feet behind her. She turned and looked at him.
“I think you should go.”
He looked at her in consternation. “And leave you here alone?”
“I’m all right.”
“I don’t like it,” he said slowly. He paused, then took a pair of steps closer to her. “I will do it, but I don’t want to.”
She realized that tears were running down her cheeks. It was because she was having trouble with the gate, not because she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t know him. She was almost sure that if she got to know him, she wouldn’t like him. He was bossy, aggressive, brusque, and—
One helluva kisser.
She threw her arms around his neck and held on. His mouth was a marvel, softer than she had imagined, more demanding than she’d expected, stealing her breath before she thought it was possible.
Just as quickly, she was holding on to nothing. He was standing again five paces away from her. Sunny wrapped her arms around herself.
“I’ll be all right.”
His look almost burned her to a crisp. “Very well,” he growled, then he turned and strode away with a curse. He disappeared around the corner.
Sunny touched her mouth, then turned and faced Moraig’s house again. She couldn’t see it for her tears, but she knew it was in front of her. She knew she had to go through it because there was nothing for her in the past. Nothing at all.
She held out her hands and felt for the doorway, then crossed it before she could think better of it.